There is only one day out of 365 that I only try to survive, hoping the daylight vanishes quickly and the darkness immediately escapes into the rejuvenating sunlight of the next day so I can rush off to work and be ridiculously busy.

And for that same reason, I didn’t go to church today. I wanted to, but just couldn’t do it. This is the one day out of 365 that I absolutely can’t go to a church service. Too much father’s day family stuff, congratulations to fathers with their laughing kids on their knees and their wives singing their praises for taking the kids to school and teaching them soccer and baseball and such. Let those fathers enjoy their day and their wonderful children; that is absolutely the way it should be. But don’t force me to watch it.

Just too painful to me – the ostracizing, enigmatic, bizarre emptiness that cannot be defined by normal well – adjusted people. I am a father of two children who I raised and worried about and loved and taught and adored – but they are lost, having fallen deeply into an abyss of black – vacuumed barrenness – an abyss created by a human entity or being who laughs and smiles meekly to others while devouring life – sustaining nourishment from the void “it” created.

364 days per year I am strong; it nearly killed me to use all my energy in my cells to resolve it with love, but having failed, I accept life for what it is while cherishing and loving the people around me who love and provide me true friendship.

But not today. I’m not bitter, just realistic, but It just won’t go away. However, tomorrow, the sun will shine; I will exercise again and breathe in the fresh mountain air that God has provided for me. And if tomorrow doesn’t come, I know that I am at peace with God.

I love my father and I called him today. Only wish I could be there with him, but that just isn’t possible right now, but I am with him in thoughts and prayers. Such a strong man: Suffered a stroke that could’ve ended his life, but instead, his stubborn will and God’s help allowed him to recover enough to prove us all wrong and live independently in the home he built for his departed true love of over 54 years.

Yes, he’s stubborn, but he’s a good man, a good father and I am truly lucky that he is still alive to honor and cherish.

So Dad, let’s drink a shot together now, at 5 o’clock my time, and 6 O’clock your time. Down the hatch Dad, and allow the smoothness of the drink to float you to the peaceful harmony you deserve.
And as far as church, I don’t feel too bad that I didn’t go, because I talked to God in prayer several times today, and he listens. You see, although this is a rough day that peels off my protective fire – proof coat for 24 hours, leaving me naked in the desert sun, the armor goes back on tomorrow and today I still smile inside because of all the bountiful blessings that have been showered upon me. I’m a lucky guy.

Nothing matters but love.

SRC